Torn
by SS Fourniner
Summary: He was contemplating sneaking back out the door - because really, there was no way this was going to work out well - when he heard a yell coming from upstairs. WARNINGS: Spoilers for 3x03


**Title:** Torn  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Kurt Hummel, Finn Hudson  
><strong>Summary: <strong>_He was contemplating sneaking back out the door - because really, there was no way this was going to work out well - when he heard a yell coming from upstairs_.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> This is a work of fiction; I don't own the characters, just the story.  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> spoilers for 3x03

* * *

><p>It felt cliché, but Finn couldn't help the way he sagged with his back against the front door.<p>

Home.

He had finally made it home and away from the craziness that the week had turned into. He'd tried very hard the last few days to be bestest-boyfriend material for Rachel, and while he thought he was handling it nicely, she dropped quite a bombshell on him today: she was running for senior class president.

Finn had been taken aback, but he managed to plaster a big smile on his face before she kissed him on the cheek and bounded away. It had taken a few minutes for the news to sink in, and when it did, Finn wasn't sure why his stomach felt so unsettled. He figured it had something to do with the fact that each evening at dinner, Kurt regaled the table with tales of his latest campaign endeavors. His unicorn buttons hadn't been a hit, but last night, he was sure that his bedazzled pocket mirrors would sway the masses.

And then Rachel had caught up with him in the parking lot after school today and asked him to '_speak to Kurt, please. He'll listen to you_.' Finn wasn't sure what exactly he should speak to Kurt about, but when he mentioned it to Rachel, she fixed him with a look that told him he'd better figure it out.

Finn wasn't sure if Kurt was even aware of his new competition, and he suddenly felt as if being back at school might not be such a bad idea. He was contemplating sneaking back out the door - because really, there was no way this was going to work out well - when he heard a yell coming from upstairs. Dropping his backpack, he took the stairs three at a time until he was in the hallway between his room and Kurt's.

Kurt's door was open, and he was sitting astride his knees on the floor. There were blue, pink and green beads scattered across the light-colored carpet, and a medium-sized box was turned on its side, smaller boxes spilling out from its depths. Kurt flung a hand at the box, sending it skittering away; one of the tiny boxes opened, and a plain black case slipped out. It was a pocket mirror, Finn realized - probably the very pocket mirrors that Kurt had intended to decorate for his campaign. Finn supposed this answered the question about whether or not Kurt knew about Rachel's newfound ambitions.

Finn was about to say something when Kurt suddenly deflated. His head hung low, and his shoulders started to shake. Finn's chest felt constricted when the sound of sobbing reached his ears, and he turned back towards the stairs, wondering if he could creep back down before Kurt noticed he was standing there. He was still torn between saying something to Kurt and fleeing when Kurt pushed himself up, stumbling towards his desk.

Kurt roughly shoved his rolling chair away, uncaring that it nearly tipped over before striking softly against his bed. Finn watched warily as Kurt tore open the desk's side drawer, rifling through paperwork before pulling out a gold, three-ring binder. Finn's eyes narrowed; this was Kurt's _New York Academy for Dramatic Arts_ folder. Everyone in the house - and anyone within ear shot of it - knew this. Kurt clutched the sparkly notebook to his chest before letting his legs fold under his weight. He collapsed in a heap, and Finn scurried back a step so that Kurt could not see him, but he could still see Kurt.

The slender boy sat for some minutes not doing anything but hanging onto the folder as if it were a lifeline. He wasn't sobbing the way he had been before, but Finn could see that his eyes were very shiny and his cheeks were wet. Slowly, Kurt released his hold on the notebook and gently placed it on the floor in front of him. Finn watched curiously as his brother daintily open the folder to display the first page. _Kurt Hummel's Master Plan_, it read.

Kurt carefully turned the page, and Finn knew from repeatedly having the notebook thrust under his nose, that the next page was Kurt's NYADA's application. The paperwork was a work-in-progress, Kurt constantly reminded Finn, Burt and Carol, as there were many more extra-curricular activities he needed to add, but the parts he could fill in - name, address, aspirations - were already completed.

Finn remembered once asking Kurt if he worried about the handwriting contrasting or being in different ink since he was filling it out as he went, adding things as they popped up, and the glare Kurt gave him could have melted butter. Firstly, Kurt explained, his handwriting never changed - it was concise and clear at all times - and secondly, Kurt had a special pen purchased just for the occasion of filling out his application. It looked cheap and like something you could buy at that frilly store at the mall Rachel liked to shop at, but Kurt's NYADA pen - a crystal-covered piece with a giant faux-diamond at the end - sat in a small but elaborate case front and center on Kurt's desk.

When Finn thought Kurt might be getting ready to add something to the application, he considered warning Kurt against it; the boy was clearly upset, and he would never forgive himself if his penmanship was off. There was only ever going to be one application, Kurt argued, and as this was his future he was talking about, he would never make a mistake on it.

Before Finn could bring himself to say anything, though, Kurt slowly pulled the crème-colored document from its protective pouch and set it aside. He folded the notebook closed and stretched to place it back on the desktop. Finn felt as if he was in some kind of stand-off: Kurt in one corner, he in the other, and the application in the last. His eyes went from Kurt to the application and back, but Kurt's eyes never left the single sheet of paper.

Finally, Kurt reached down and took the sheet in his hands. He held the lone document at either side for a few seconds, head slightly tilted and lamenting silently, before moving both hands to the top. Finn gasped when Kurt pulled his hands in opposite directions, the sharp tear of paper resonating loudly in the room and covering up the sound of Finn's exhalation.

As Kurt tore and tore and tore, it occurred to Finn that he was watching Kurt tear apart - at least figuratively - his life. His dreams, his hopes, his happiness… for the last few weeks that single sheet of paper had come to represent what would be Kurt's future after high school, after Lima, and here it was being shredded before him. That stupid application that Finn rolled his eyes at so many times, contemplated folding into an origami chicken just to see Kurt's reaction; the paper he scoffed at and yawned at and pushed away with his foot when Kurt wasn't looking… the paper that always meant so little to Finn suddenly, in its death, meant so much - maybe as much as it had meant to Kurt - and now it was _gone_.

Kurt was sobbing again, the life he once yearned so badly for tattered around his kneeling form. Finn wanted to cry, too. He wanted to rush into the room and fall down next to his brother and cry with him. He wanted to put an arm around the smaller boy and pull him close.

But he couldn't.

Because if there was anything Kurt hated more than nearly anything else, it was being seen as vulnerable. No matter how hard Finn might try and make him see it was okay to be down and out sometimes, Kurt would never have it. Because Kurt was strong - stronger than anyone Finn knew. And yeah, maybe he couldn't throw a punch to save his life, and maybe dancing around to GaGa made him sort of girly, but anyone who could live through the crap Kurt had been through these last couple of years and still try to be someone who represented and sympathized and worked for the very people who made his life hell… yeah, Finn figured, that was pretty strong.

Finn took a couple of steps back, nearing the stairway. While he had considered running earlier, he knew that there was no way he could do that now. Kurt came close to boring everyone at dinner with rambles about the school play and his run for election, but he never mentioned being laughed off stage (as described by Rachel) or being pulled aside by Santana and threatened with a dull razor blade (also described by Rachel and confirmed by a confused Brittany). Finn didn't know if it was because Kurt didn't want the pity or if, even amongst his family, he felt alone and unable to share the uglier details. Either way, Finn wanted Kurt to know that he had his back, just like he promised him a year ago.

Finn crept down the stairs and to the front door. He slowly opened it and took a deep breath before slamming it shut. He waited a few seconds before stamping up the stairs.

"Hey, Kurt! You here?" he asked, stopping outside Kurt's door as the other boy scrambled to stand.

"Finn," Kurt greeted, nonchalantly leaning against his desk and rubbing the back of his hand under his eyes. "Yes, I'm here, as you would know by the fact that my vehicle is in the driveway."

"What happened here?" Finn asked, ignoring the sharp, biting tone and dumbly waving an arm at the mess of boxes and shredded paper on the floor. He bent down to collect the strewed cardboard sleeves, and Kurt immediately crouched to grab at them before Finn could.

"I knocked over the box on accident," Kurt quickly explained, hands darting to snatch at each piece Finn reached for. "I can clean up, thank you."

"I don't mind helping," Finn insisted, finally getting his hands on one of the non-descript containers. He sat up and opened it before Kurt could drag it away from him, and acted surprised when a compact slipped out. "Hey, these are the mirrors you were going to decorate!"

"Yes, _were_ being the operable term" Kurt huffed.

"What do you mean?" Finn tried to play it cool, but the fix of Kurt's eyes conveyed that he wasn't falling for it.

"Surely you know that Rachel has put her hat in for the impending elections?" Kurt asked harshly, sitting back on folded legs.

Finn ducked his head, ashamed at his attempted deception. "Yeah," he agreed. "That's sort of what I wanted to talk to you about." At Kurt's raised eyebrow, he continued: "Rachel feels bad about the whole thing…"

"Clearly not bad enough," Kurt cut in, venom lacing his words. "If she felt bad, she would put a stop to this spectacle of hers and pull out."

"I don't think… I can't speak for her, obviously… because she would use a lot bigger words than I could ever manage… but she has to have her reasons, even if you and I don't understand them," Finn tried.

"Really?" Kurt remarked dryly.

"Kurt, please… I don't know what to do here. Rachel asked me to talk to you about it, but… I don't know what I am supposed to say."

"I am sure she was asking you to convince me to drop my bid," Kurt whispered, his voice sounding so forlorn, sounding as if he were mourning a death, which, if Finn thought about it - risking a glance at the shredded paper near Kurt's knees - he was.

"No! No way, dude. I wouldn't do that to you," Finn defended, head shaking and fists clenched on his thighs.

Kurt shrugged, shoulders drooping, the fight clearly going out of him. "What does it matter? If Rachel doesn't take me down, it will be Brittany; everyone loves her, and everyone hates me."

"That's not true," Finn argued, stunned that Kurt really felt that way.

"Hmmm… is that so? Well, tell me, Finn Hudson: who will you be voting for?"

Finn's jaw dropped, and his mouth moved as if he were a fish out of water. He hadn't expected the question - but holy hell he should have. The longer he took to answer, the more it seemed the sharp gleam in Kurt's eyes died and his mouth turned downwards at the corners.

"It's okay, Finn," Kurt assured, his lips curling upwards in a sad mockery of a smile. "I understand."

"No, Kurt, it's not like that…"

"If you don't mind," Kurt continued as if Finn hadn't, "I need to take a shower and start on homework."

"I'm sorry, Kurt," Finn whispered, meaning the words as if he had never meant them before.

Kurt met his eyes briefly before nodding. "I know." The sad smile came back for a second before Kurt levied himself up and crossed into his bathroom. Even when the door clicked shut and the sound of the lock turning rang loudly in the room, Finn couldn't find the strength to stand up.


End file.
